Snow & Blood
by Narrowpath
Summary: 2014 Doomies Unites Winter Challenge. This is my take on what would have realistically happened in the Ice Planet episode. Reader's discretion advised. PLXA pairing. Not at all KXA friendly. Rated M for extreme violence, language, sexual content, reluctance/non-con. If this makes me a bad person, c'est la vie.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Ok this is my first fan fic in 14 years, so bear with me. LXA pairing (and not at all KXA friendly). This is not a very happy story. It is a dark story. There are major character deaths. (Please note the plural). There are descriptions of the aftermath of extreme violence. There will be reluctance/non-con situations.**_

_**So if you find any of these things upsetting or triggering, please don't read it.**_

OMG nearly forgot - I do not own Voltron or any of its characters, settings, etc.

Allura's glassy eyes fixated on the snowflakes as they meandered down from the gray sky, and for a brief moment everything seemed well with the universe. Winter and snow had always brought her comfort; huddling around the fire; drinking hot chocolate. One of her last happy memories before the war began was of winter. Her mother had helped her build a snowman in the palace garden. Nanny insisted Allura was too old for such frivolity and should be focusing on her studies (for all the good they did her now). However, perhaps aware of the horrors that were bound to come, the queen ignored the governess and played with her daughter. Allura tried to remember how old she was then but couldn't. Her thoughts began to scramble and it became harder and harder for her to focus. A now all too familiar sensation began to take hold.

Her fist clenched as a pain ripped through her entire body and a sound began to emanate from her. It started as a simpering moan before quickly transitioning into a roaring scream. At this point the others in the room turned toward her, including _him. _How she wanted to gauge out those golden eyes. This was his doing. They returned to their hushed conversations, taking great pains to insure she did not overhear what they were saying. But she knew they were talking about her and what was to be done to her. Their eyes looked at a series of monitors and would glance at her for only the briefest of moments. Craning her head she tried to see what they were looking at but she couldn't. All she could see was the small puddle of her blood at the foot on the table.

Allura felt so at their mercy and she hated it. Oh, if she could only make them feel what she felt. She could see a table with bizarre looking metal instruments. At the moment, she didn't know their purpose other than they were going to be used on her. Some were sharp enough that if she could get just one, she could maim that handsome blue face of his. Yes, she would enjoy that!

Before she could indulge her fantasy any further, another scream erupted from her as every fiber of her being resonated fire and tightness. Perhaps if everything else didn't hurt she would have realized how raw her throat had become from the screams. Her breathing degraded to hisses and she didn't even attempt to moderate the sobs flowing from her. She swore she would be dignified about this but nothing had prepared her for the pain.

Lotor walked toward where she laid. He attempted to stand next to her. Allura convinced it was so he could admire his handy work. Before he could get his satisfaction, she began swinging her arms and he halted.

"I don't want you near me!" she hissed through clenched teeth. Looking at her, her long golden mane matted and unkempt, her eyes bulged out, one would have thought her a feral animal. But she didn't care. Let them think what they wanted of her. If she could just reach that stupid table, then she would show him.

"Should we restrain her, your majesty?" one of the others asked. Perhaps, they had read her thoughts and knew her intentions.

He rolled his eyes as if he would need protecting from her, which only infuriated her. He approached her again, this time without outburst; the pain wracking her body nearing a peak. He picked up the washcloth sitting in a bowl of ice water and dabbed her forehead with it. She only just became aware her hair was soaked from sweat. The king knelt beside her and leaned in toward her ear, whispering, "These…exertions are only making things worse."

"Make it stop," she begged, her words punctuated by sobs.

"It's a little late for that, love," he laughed, kissing her forehead.

"Don't touch me," she cried, snapping her head toward the falling snow again. _The fucking bastard was laughing at her! _

_Focus! _She tried to find comfort from the snow as it fell peacefully to the ground. But alas, she couldn't. All she could think of was how this all began in the snow.


	2. Chapter 2 - Massacre on Neve

_**Author's Note: Thanks to Ebon_Drake, BigZ1984, Emoz1205, & Carly Chameleon for your kind reviews. **_

_**There is extreme violence in this chapter**_

_**Okay, so you know how I said there are major character deaths? (Again noting the plural) Well this is it. This is not drill! Most of those deaths happen in this chapter. Also, please remember my note where I said it's not at all KXA friendly. I'm not joking. Never been a KXA fan and it will definitely show (not sure why I've never really been fan of KXA. But I suppose that is a subject for another time & possibly for a therapist).**_

_**From this point on, you should assume that this is not safe for work. **_

**Anywho, you have been warned!**

**Chapter 2 - Massacre on Neve**

The seeping puddle of blood in the snow, growing and advancing, was the first thing she noticed as she was dragged by her hair to the icy peak. It sunk a chill on her heart and a shudder ripped through her. Even as she approached and looked at the source of the flowing blood, a headless body, Allura's mind would not recognize to whom the severed head belonged. However, while her mind may have refused to acknowledge who it was, her heart couldn't ignore the red and white peeking out from the snow covered flight suit and her knees gave out.

"NO!" she screamed as if by doing so it could undo what had been done. She felt Mogor's two strong hands pick her up and force her to stand, before closing the final distance to Lotor. The victorious prince looked down at the vanquished body, his mouth curved in a wicked smile. He turned toward her, his shoulders back and feet widely planted; he just radiated superiority. His long snow white hair, whipping wildly in the wind, was barely distinguishable amongst the blizzard condition. His blue face and uniform had blood sprayed across them, accentuating the savagery behind his catlike eyes.

Then her mind turned to the sight of Romelle and when the two crossed paths, only minutes earlier, as a part of the exchange that Lotor proposed. The dark prince promised that, if Allura surrendered to him, he'd release her two cousins. Allura was ill prepared to see the condition of Romelle. Her cousin's dress was shredded at the hem and dirt stained. Bruises spanned the length of her arms. The pallor of her cousin's complexion and the way her skin hung off her bones startled the princess of Arus; as did the Polluxian princess' bent, almost crumbling posture. Allura's stomach hardened at the thought that by taking Romelle's place she would become Lotor's object of abuse. Tapping into her primal survival instinct, she twisted and writhed in Mogor's grip. For one brief moment she was free of his grip and she bolted.

Her freedom was short lived. Lotor had watched their struggle and raced after her. She had run for only a few yards when she felt the full speed of his sprint topple her to the cold, unyielding ground. Aches spread through her torso and she was sure she'd bruise. Pulling her to her feet by her collar of her flight suit, he hissed, "I don't like being doubled crossed." With those words, he aimed his pistol at Romelle in the valley below.

"Don't!" Allura begged, tugging at his arm, but he squeezed the trigger. He did this without hesitation or any sign of remorse. A beam of light erupted out and flew through the blizzard conditions. Before the princess could even pray that her cousins were out of range Romelle's body fell lifelessly to the ground. Another burst of light erupted from his pistol and the Polluxian royal blood line lay dead in the snows of Neve.

_No, no, no!_ This wasn't supposed to happen. Keith had a plan. He would use his flight suit to attract the snow, so Lotor would not know it wasn't her approaching. Keith's plans always worked. He said Bandor and Romelle would be safely in their ships and Allura returned to her lion before Keith made his reveal. Lotor would be none the wiser.

Coran had warned them time and time again about their hubris; about underestimating the enemy. Doom had not become the dominant power in the galaxy through chance and stupidity. And while Voltron was powerful, it had well known flaws. Until now, Coran's warning appeared baseless. However, Lotor must have expected a trick; perhaps she accepted his offer for an exchange too quickly or maybe he saw something. Either way his men monitored their heat signals. So when another person entered the mix, invisible to the naked eye but not to their equipment, they must have suspected a double cross. The same equipment made it easy for Mogor to find Allura's hiding spot. And now her cousins and Keith were dead.

"Release the robeast!" Lotor ordered, his expression devoid of emotion. A tug on her flight suit's collar and they moved before she could say anything, before she could beg for her friend's lives. A hatch opened with a swish and the prince shoved her forward into the bay, toward a group of battle armored soldiers. None caught her fall as she stumbled to the ground. The loud thud of the prince's gait approaching had her rearing to her feet.

As she turned to face him, she tried to summon her bravado, but the coldness in his eyes seeped to her blood and she froze. He exuded none of his usual false charm. There was a hardness to his features that shouldn't have surprised her but still did. If this was a harbinger of things to come, Allura wondered how Romelle endured his treatment for so long. Her captor advanced on her again and she retreated backwards but a guard blocked her path.

"I'm not sure how you thought it was a good idea to cross me like that," he came to stand hunching over her, shoulders wide, only centimeters separating them. She cocked her head away and wouldn't look up at him, so he grabbed a fistful of her golden hair, and jerked her head to face him. A grunt escaped her and tears welled in her eyes. "But let me show you how I repay such actions."

He started to lead her out of the bay by her hair. Wincing, she pulled back. The angry fire burning behind his eyes grew brighter and it threatened to consume all who stood in its path. She wanted to be brave in that moment but a satisfied smile swept his face. The princess knew then her fear crept to her eyes. She hated herself for showing such weakness and the power it gave him. He released her hair and seized her upper arm in his vise like grip.

Lotor's men bowed as he strode through the darkend passageways with his prize. A few of their glances ventured up to her and she could see the knowing, prurient gleam in their eyes. She swallowed hard and repeated to herself: _don't cry!_

She was led through another set of doors to what must have been his command center. The soft glow from the countless data screens provided the room's primary light source. With a mere nod of his head two soldiers stood from their stations, climbed the steps to where they stood, and seized Allura's arms. Lotor slid into his command chair, his long, muscular legs outstretched in front of him, and barked, "On screen!"

"Witness the demise of Voltron, my love," he chuckled.

Smoke already billowed from the torso of the lifeless green lion. Her focus turned to the other two lions, both of whom had gaping holes in their outer hulls. Hunk's lion flew in an irregular pattern before crashing into the frozen surface. A blanket of red and orange flames engulfed his lion. Allura felt what little color she had left drain from her face as Lance attempted to flee the atmosphere but was intercepted and caught by the robeast. Her hands flew to her mouth and a shrill scream escaped her as she watched the robeast tear the lion in two. Her cries were drowned out as the officers and soldiers in the command center jumped to their feet and erupted in cheers.

"Retrieve the black and blue lions. They'll be a nice addition to today's spoil." She didn't need to look at him to feel his eyes scale her trembling, slender form. They stopped when they reached her pale, tear stained face. The princess refused to meet his gaze. Her pride forbade her from giving him the satisfaction of seeing her so defeated.

And what made it sting all the more was that it was an avoidable defeat. She gambled her people's well-being based on her feelings; her desire to help her two cousins. If Coran had been there he would have been quick to admonish the foolishness of risking the well-being of the entire Arussian population for two people who she didn't even know existed a year earlier. And if she was being honest with herself, following Keith's plan was the height of naiveté. They were all naïve to think they could fool the prince. However, Allura was certain Lotor already had plans to show her the error of her way. Her friends' deaths were only the beginning of that instruction.

Her mind flashed back to Romelle's skeletal frame and bruised body and felt a fine tremor run through her. There was no one to save her. No one! She couldn't even save herself. Because if she did, how much more would her people suffer? Her eyes drifted down to him and she didn't realize that he was still staring up at her. He seemed pleased but she had no idea with what exactly.

"Take her away!" he waved his hand.

Two guards grabbed her arms and tugged ever so slightly. She thought to resist them but to what end? To be brutalized by the prince? Her people abused? So she walked without struggle, looking only at the ground. The ship began to hum and vibrate. Minutes later she felt a change in gravity as the ship left the atmosphere and the artificial gravity kicked in. She wondered where they were headed: Doom or Arus? Neither seemed like an attractive option to her. If it were to her home world, she feared the retribution he'd seek because of her deception. Of course the alternative was her prison.

Her escort eventually stopped, entered a code into a keypad, and a door opened. One of the men extended their arm into the room. She expected it to be a cell but it was a suite. _His suite!_ If she were in her right mind, this would bother her. But in that moment, she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge anything. Not her friends' death. Not her people's defeat. Not the fact that she was in Lotor's bedroom. All she could do was cry.

* * *

><p>She stood from the foot of his bed when he entered. He smiled, liking the way she looked being so close to his bed. For the moment she was silent. <em>This is a first for her, <em>Lotor laughed to himself. He had expected more of a fight when he entered and part of him was disappointed. But the prince knew she wasn't an idiot; naïve at times, but no idiot. Allura would have been dead a long time ago if she had been. No, this petite girl, who may have looked fragile was anything but. No, his princess was a survivor. So he knew she must realize the gravity of her situation. This knowledge was there in the puffiness of her blue eye and rosiness of her nose. "I give you a week to mourn your losses," his voice absent of any tenderness or malevolence. "Then you will uphold your end of our bargain."

"What bargain?" she hissed.

"The bargain you tried to back out of," he narrowed his eyes on her as she glared back at him – her defiance rearing its pretty little head. He clenched his hands and then released them. Ah, his old friend and nemesis, how pleased he was to see her insolence. He felt his pulse quicken. He lowered his voice and said, "Certainly by exchanging yourself for your cousins you understood you would be mine!"

"But you killed them!" she choked on her words.

"And whose fault is that?"

_Mine, _she thought to herself. All of them dead because of her and yet she couldn't bring herself to agree with him. "I'm not yours!" she seethed, eyes hard and jaw locked.

Lotor walked toward her and jerked her chin toward him. "You are mine!" he whispered in her ear. "The manner and the form of that possession, I leave up to you. You should think very carefully about yours and your people's future during this coming week. You could be at my side as my wife and future queen and your people free citizens of the empire. Or you can be on your back as my whore and your people slaves. But make no mistake, all your paths lead to my bed!"

He turned on his heels and walked out of the room. She could still see specks of blood in his snow white hair and it brought her tears rushing back anew. Instead of pondering the choices laid before her, her mind screamed over and over: _This hell is not mine! This hell is not mine!_


	3. Chapter 3 - Lotor's Triumph

**Author's Note: Thanks to Emoz1205, Carly Chameleon, DrowningBlonde, & Ebon_Drake for your reviews. I appreciate it. **

**This chapter is rather tame compared to last chapter (at least I think it is). I'm airing on the conservative side here but there are references to sexual subject matter (although it is rather brief )**

**Originally, this chapter was meant to be longer but I decided to put the final third of what I originally wrote in the next chapter. **

**Chapter 3 - Lotor's Triumph**

He was her first real crush; intoxicating; invigorating. The commander played the role perfectly, if inadvertently. He was handsome and brave but at the same time humble. Her feelings were probably always doomed to be unreciprocated. Allura recalled how Keith always fidgeted and glanced toward the exit whenever she was able to lure him into a room alone. Even if his feeling were mutual, Keith would have never compromised propriety or duty to act on it. No, he was far too noble for that.

Certain it was the only way her mind could cope, she became, to a large extent, numb to the horror of how he died. However, her chest felt so heavy, thinking of the commander there in the snow. If his arrival on Arus heralded the return of happiness to her life than his death was certainly the harbinger of desolation. A tear slid down her cheek, just one of the many she shed since arriving on Doom. It hung on her chin before dropping below into her nearly full teacup. Her tea had long since gone cold, so she leaned forward from the black leather couch and placed it on the low mahogany table in front of her. A servant stepped away from the marble fireplace with a teapot in hand but Allura shook her head. She stood and walked toward the floor to ceiling bay of windows. The clock on the mantel said it was midday and yet the lighting outside was that of dusk on Arus.

Allura found she liked the absolute cover of dark that the nights on Doom offered. It diminished the excellent view of the capital city that her suite offered. She was sure the view was meant to impress her; if only the capital weren't such an eye sore. The architecture, with its jagged, hard angles and black glass exteriors, was the antithesis of everything she found pleasing.

And while she found it unsettling to look at, what else did she have to do other than watch the bustle of city life? In the streets, just beyond the grounds of the Keep, Lotor's palace and primary residence, another parade marched through the city. The revelers carried effigies of Lotor and chanted his name. She drew a sharp breath when a burning effigy of Voltron came into view. It wasn't the first she had seen this week but she still found it painful to see. Earlier in the week the blue and black lions were exhibited in the square in front of the palace. That and these parades were all a part of the month of celebrations meant to mark the defeat of Arus and Voltron. Allura was initially surprised that there was no burning effigy of her but realized that Lotor had probably forbade it pending her decision. Though the prince hinted that if she gave him an answer he didn't like, he would deflower her in a very public setting. So a burning effigy would be the least of her problems.

Her captor's threat and the celebrations sickened her and it brought her thoughts crashing back to Keith. His body, all of their bodies, abandoned on Neve with little hope of burial (other than by the snow). But perhaps better to have been left on Neve than put on display here to be mocked and defiled. However this _consolation, _such as it was, didn't stop a thought from entering her mind that had tormented this past week. That sinking feeling that her silly, little crush blinded her sense. That she impetuously hung on the commander's every word. Did she agree to his plan solely to seem pleasing to him? If Hunk or Pidge suggested that would she have agreed? Would she have gambled so many lives on one of Lance's plans?

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed deeply – there was no way of knowing and she probably didn't want to know the answer. Honestly, Allura had more pressing matters to address. The week Lotor gave her to consider his proposal had drawn to end. The princess spent the whole week locked in this small, temporary suite. Lotor harped on the temporary nature of the suite because with either choice she would be moved to different quarters. If she refused him, her accommodation would become more "communal"; sharing quarters with his other concubines. And if she accepted his proposal, then she would occupy apartments more befitting her station. Allura sensed he hoped for an answer sooner. In truth, she knew what she would do almost from the beginning. However, she wanted to be spiteful and make him wait. Let him have a taste of agony for once.

She barely spoke to him when he visited, speaking only to answer direct questions: _Are you comfortable? Is the food to your liking?_ Lotor, on the other hand, used this time to appeal to her sense of duty. His whole approach was methodical and cold, absent of any emotional element (other than perhaps fear). There was no declaration of love or even admiration. Perhaps he realized that avenue was fruitless. Or perhaps those feelings were not present and this, in fact, was a glorified business transaction, start to finish. She was just the shiny new toy he wanted. And these were the negotiations for the acquisition of said toy with him meticulously laying out the consequences of each choice.

To that end, he would tell her of Tyrus and how their people enjoyed their status as free citizens of the empire. He was celebrated as a hero there or so he claimed. They were currently enjoying an economic boom. Their infrastructure and healthcare needs bolstered by the empire. The Tyrian children enjoyed one of the best educational system in the quadrant. And they had more centenarians now than any other time in their recorded history. All these things and more could be enjoyed by the Arussian people, he insisted.

Such accounts would be punctuated with stories of planets like Maura who vehemently opposed the empire for three years before Lotor vanquished them. The war lasted far less than the war with Arus (the prince casually mentioned, his point not lost on her). Most of the planet was without electricity. The men, women, and even some children worked in mines. The children received no education and most of them could not read. There was no healthcare. If someone fell ill, they were expected to work. All crimes were capital crimes. The average lifespan was thirty years old.

The whole week was peppered with similar recounting. Ultimately the message was the same: Arus would either be elevated to favored status by the empire, receiving superior treatment to all other friendly worlds, or it would be denigrated to the lowest status possible.

"_Arus would make Maura seem like paradise. But as ever, the choice remains firmly with you," _were his parting words during his last visit. She scoffed at his words. He left her to choose between two horrible lives. But then she thought of something Coran would often say to her: sometimes you are left with horrible choices but you still have to choose. Those words never seemed truer than now.

Beeping from buttons being pressed on keypad, stirred her from her thoughts. Lotor had come for his answer. She flattened the skirt of her linen dress and turned toward Lotor as he entered. She made no move from her spot at the window.

The prince held his head high with an unrestrained smile. He lifted the lid from her tray of untouched food, his lips pressed together and the smile gone. His eyes went from her to the tray and seemed about to say something. However, a team of servants began piling in, bowing their heads to him and then to her. His smile returned. One servant carried a flimsy outfit. The ruby colored, sequin, bikini style top would cover her nipples, if she were lucky, but nothing more. The red, sheer, silk skirt had panels of materials that would cover her groin and buttocks but not her legs. Allura was sure that there would be no undergarments to accompany this outfit. The remaining servants carried what would be her bridal trousseau. It took six servants to carry the river of silk that was to be her wedding dress, and keep it from touching the floor. There were other servants but they trailed out into the hallway.

"So tell me, my dear Allura, what color will you be wearing when you leave this room: white or red?" he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. She gasped, she hadn't heard his footsteps up to her. His arms encircled her tiny waist. Allura glanced back at the servants for a moment before looking up at his chiseled face. He wore the amused smile of a man who would come out on top no matter what she chose. Allura glanced back at the two ensembles, before casting her eyes down. Her lower lip began to quiver and she no longer cared to try and stop it.

"I, of course, have my preference," his lips tracing the curve of her neck. He smiled when he heard her breathing became uneven. He reached for her hand before she snatched it away. He spun her around, nostrils flared, and hissed, "but, make no mistake, I will not beg you!"

Her heart began to palpitate and the princess thought she might actually suffocate. She drew a ragged breath and whispered, "Whi…" She tried to finish the word but her voice failed. The princess hung her head for a moment; sullen. But then she opened them wide and she clenched her fist, as anger started to flicker in her heart. Anger not at him but at herself - she was Alfor's daughter; not some weak, frightened child. She took a deep breath, straightened her posture and looked the prince squarely in the eye, "White. I'll wear white."

He stood back from her. His eyes bright and more alive than she ever remembered seeing them. He nodded toward the servant with the harem "dress". She bowed to them both and backed out of the room. Lotor took Allura's hand, kissed it, and then bowed his head to her, before turning to the remaining servants. "Get her ready! She must look like my queen!"

As the door slid shut behind the prince, Allura felt hands upon her, ushering her away from the window. Cool air hit her back as she felt the zipper to her dress slide down. A pair of hands were over her shoulders and slipping her dress off. A servant approached with her wedding dress. As she stepped into it, it shimmered in the dim light. Upon closer inspection, Allura could detect diamonds sewn in the lacework that engulfed most of the strapless dress. A woman with hair utensils looked her hair over and frowned.

"Sit, princess," she motioned to a backless divan near the couch. Two other woman armed with curling irons approached and began their work. Another servant stepped forward and applied the princess' makeup. They spent far too long primping her, she thought. Allura would never have considered herself a tomboy but she never strived to have the story book princess look that Nanny so desired of her. It just wasn't important to her. When the primping team finished with her and she looked in the mirror, Allura thought how her appearance would have surpassed even Nanny's standards. Her normally messy mane of hair was neat and piled on top of her head. Diamonds and rubies sparkled throughout her coif. Her complexion looked bright and fresh.

Her attention, as well as everyone else in the room, seized when the sparkle of a necklace dangled in front of the princess before going around her neck. Her fingers caressing the cool, undulating strings of what was easily hundreds of carats of diamonds. She heard a little voice in her head condemning her for being momentarily enamored with the necklace. _This isn't for you. It's so he can show off. _If that were the case he could have stopped there and he would have been successful. But there was more; bejeweled bracelets for each wrist; asymmetrical tear drop diamond earrings that weighed down her ears.

Then, for the finale, one of the servants fluffed her long veil before placing it on top of the pile of blond curls. Another approached the princess with a diamond tiara, with dozens of bejeweled strands flowing from the diadem. As the servant placed it on top of the princess' head, her mouth hung open at the sheer number of diamonds.

A servant walked slowly around Allura, looking her up and down. This would be what she would have to endure for the rest of her life – being assessed for her looks and nothing else. Time would eventually erode her beauty. A shudder coursed through her. What would become of her when Lotor no longer found her pleasing to look at? Her mind drifted back to Romelle in the snow. Allura stifled a sob and cast her head down. The servant inspecting her lifted the princess' chin up. The woman's wrinkled nose and squint spoke volumes: marriage to the most eligible bachelors in the Denubian Galaxy was something for which Allura should be grateful, not sobbing.

Frowning, the princess twisted her head out of the woman's hand and narrowed her eyes on the servant. The servant's eyes widened before backing up with her head bowed, and whispered, "his highness awaits you, your highness."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks to Emoz1205, Carly Chameleon, DrowningBlonde, Snyper Lady & Ebon_Drake for your reviews. I appreciate it. **

**Sorry took so long for an update. I struggled with this chapter. ****Originally, chapters 3, 4, & 5 were supposed to be one chapter but they kind of grew legs. I felt they would've been too rushed or way too long if they were all together.**

**This chapter has a major character death and other acts of disturbing violence. There is some mild language (at least mild by my standards).**

**Chapter 4**

On paper, this was a fairy tale moment. The beautiful princess in a horse drawn carriage to meet the handsome prince so they could be married. Allura laughed out loud at the notion. The attendants in the carriage regarded her with raised eyebrows, probably wondering if she was going crazy. _Let them think that she was, _she thought. Insanity was probably the only way she would be able to endure this.

She rubbed her temples. The repetitive flash of hundreds of cameras created a strobe light effect as her carriage slowly progressed through the capital city. Between flashes, the explosive hum of hovercrafts above, and the cheering crowd's roar a migraine threatened. A loud sigh escaped her. If she was on Arus, she would be smiling and waving to the crowds; playing to perfection the part of the radiant bride. Instead she sat back in her seat, hidden from the crowd's view; sullen and scowling. For a moment she wondered if Lotor expected her to feign happiness for the crowds - oh well if he did.

Though she was in no hurry to bind herself to Lotor in matrimony, the slow pace of the carriage tortured her. She just wanted the horrible deed, and the dread rooted in her stomach, to be over. The carriage moved at this painfully slow rate due in part to the host of palace guard surrounding it. Allura contemplated their purpose. In part she was certain it was to prevent any last minute escape attempts. But also, it may have been for her own protection. The war with Arus had been long, and there was a probability many in the crowd who would seek revenge for lost loved ones. If it weren't for the welfare of her people, the princess would gladly submitted to those whims.

When the carriage finally halted the princess heard the captain of the guard bark orders and then the thunder of the guards' synchronized marching. The captain opened the door to her carriage and she emerged, giving an obligatory wave and forced smile to the crowds beyond the gate. The guards lined her way to the palace entrance. Her attendants swarmed her, lifting her long, shimmering train to keep it from touching the ground, as another servant led her through the palace

She inhaled deeply as Lotor walked up to greet her. He had that arrogant smirk on his face that she would've given her left arm to smack off. But he was certainly playing the part of the handsome prince well. Medals adorned his dress uniform with a crimson sash across his broad chest. A platinum handled sword hung from his belt. After his slow inspection of her, he smiled and offered her a gloved hand.

"I guess I should've known better. I enrobe you in jewels and you still manage to outshine them." He placed her small hand in his and said, "My father awaits us." He tightened his grip as she tried to snatch her hand back. He grimaced and clenched his teeth, "once we are standing before him, we must bow."

Her head shook fiercely and she tried to back away. She didn't know why this surprised her. Of course his father would be there but it just never crossed her mind that she'd have to come face to face with the murderer of her family. One of the many realizations she was sure her mind suppressed. Allura wasn't sure if it was fear, hate, or pure outrage that she felt. Maybe it was combination of all of them. The captive bride wondered which would be harder: seeing her family's murderer and the tormentor of her people, or keeping her hatred for this man off her face. Either scenario, she was grateful that she allowed no food pass her lips earlier, confident it would not have stayed down.

"Just this once," Lotor whispered, allowing a brief moment of concern to pass his face. His fingers lightly caressing the side of her face. "I promise." One of the many promises to her she was sure he'd break. How she wanted scream 'no' and run from there. But for the sake of her people, she allowed his gesture to comfort her even though she knew he was lying. As wife to Zarkon's heir, how could she realistically expect to avoid seeing the king?

Lotor nodded to the guards who stood outside the massive doors and they opened them. Lotor hooked her right hand around his elbow and led her into the throne room. The princess' entourage following behind silently.

The expansive room, paved with onyx flooring, was lined with gilded colonnades. Her blue eyes drifted to the rows of crystal chandeliers, then to the arched ceilings. They bore frescos of great Drule warriors. Allura saw the sketched outline of a newly commissioned mural. The painting had not begun on it but she could tell what it was. It was of Lotor, his sword brandished, with Voltron in pieces at his feet. A scowl formed on her face and her eyes snapped down as she swore she heard Lotor chuckle. _Asshole!_

Her gaze turned to the courtiers that lined the path to Zarkon. Bowing to the crown prince, their cat like eyes peered up and stalked them as the passed – cold, devious, plotting. Behind them she could see dozens of people, slaves she presumed, prostrated. A chorus of "oohs" and "ahs" from the Drule court could be heard as they passed. The prince walked with determination toward his father's throne. His head scanning the crowds, unable to contain his satisfied smile, as if he was saying to them _I told you so, I told you she would be mine._

The princess searched the crowd for Nanny or Coran or someone she knew but there was no one. For a moment she felt a pang of sadness for Nanny. She thought of how Nanny incessantly talked of seeing the princess' wedding day. But would Nanny want to see this? Would Nanny want to be in the same room as Zarkon and Lotor? Unlikely.

Allura's eyes only briefly drifted up to where Zarkon sat high upon his golden throne. Unlike his son, who even Allura had to admit was handsome, Zarkon was hideous. Red, pussy ulcer riddled his cerulean skin. There were pox marks on his face where ulcers had healed. He was a gaunt man with dark circles encompassing his hollowed out, soulless eyes. Other than their skin and eye color, Allura could see no resemblance between father and son, for which she was suddenly grateful.

As they reached the foot of the steps leading to the throne, Lotor tugged her arm down and they sunk to their knees before his father. Lotor held her hand with a firm grip, while the fingers of his other hand curled around the hilt of his sword. Allura saw from the corner of her eyes that his head was bowed and she followed suit. A heavy footfall on the obsidian stairs warned of Zarkon's descent. Allura felt herself freeze and her breathing become shallow, her chest felt so heavy, once she saw the hem of the king's robe resting mere inches from her bowed head. She tried to focus on his words but couldn't. Words like fruitful, obedience, and duty filtered through her surreal haze. But when Zarkon said, "…_husband & wife. Rise my son," _her mind snapped to full attention. It was done, she was married! It dawned on her that there were no wedding vows. Only the decree from the king that they were married.

"Forgive me," Lotor whispered as he pushed her onto her backside and away from him. As he stood, she saw the blue glow of his lazon sword, then Zarkon's head at her feet. An involuntary shriek escaped her and her attendants rushed to help her stand. A chorus of gasps emanated from the guests but her response was the most dramatic. Given that she hated the man more than anybody present, the practically nonchalant response of those present spoke volumes to her about the Drule's tolerance for violence.

Zarkon's guard instinctively made a move toward Lotor and his gaze snapped toward them. His eyes alight as if hoping for a challenge but they paused. Lotor picked up the crown that fell off his father's severed head and looked around at the courtier's, sword still in hand. Lotor placed the crown on his head. Allura's eyes remained fixated on the severed head (the second one she had seen in a week – she shuddered to think that this would a new norm for her). Zarkon's eyes and mouth continued to move for a brief period before what little light he had in his eyes faded. Oh, how happy she was that she didn't eat earlier.

"The King is dead! Long live the King," a courtier called out and all gathered, save Allura, dropped to their knees and bowed before the new king. He looked around at his subjects and his smile broadened. Then his gaze settled on her. He charged toward her and she froze; too afraid and shocked to retreat. Lotor seized her and roughly kissed her, her eyes wide open the whole time.

"My queen," he whispered, his hand framing her face.

For a moment, she just stared at him, unsure of how she felt. Horrified that her new husband just struck down his own father? Or grateful that he killed the man who had tormented her dreams for so many years now? Finally she whispered, "Why?"

"Why what?"

She shook her head. _Why what? Really, dumbass? _As if it shouldn't have been completely obvious. "Why did you kill your own father?"

"For you," he said softly and for a brief moment she thought she detected tenderness in his voice. "In Drule culture, a man proves himself a worthy mate by showing he can protect his wife. I've killed the man who killed your parents. I've avenged your family and shown I can protect you."

She didn't respond, still shaking from this sudden turn of events but she wanted to ask, "and who is going to protect me from you?" But she thought better of it.

A male servant approached Lotor and placed a crimson, velvet robe around his shoulder. They were king's robes, tailored and fitted to Lotor's broad frame. Allura wondered how long Lotor had planned this. She supposed it really didn't matter. She was just happy he had the foresight to have robes made for the occasion, as they hid the splotches of blood on his clothes. Her meandering thoughts were reigned in as he kissed her again before leading her up to the throne. When they reached the top, Lotor raised his and Allura's hand up over his head and cheers erupted in the room. Lotor lowered himself onto the throne, still warm from when his father occupied it just minutes earlier, and he smiled. Allura sat at his side, silent with her gaze fixed on the ground.

Several servants rushed forth and removed the former king's corpse, much to Allura's relief. A servant girl approached with a platter of food and knelt at their feet. Instead of leaving the platter, the girl remained kneeling with the platter offered over her head. Allura wondered if she had refused Lotor's would she have been the table instead.

Initially Allura felt sorry for the girl, it seemed like a very uncomfortable position to hold. Soon she realized this girl was lucky compared to the other slaves present. A noble approached the throne with a legion of slaves lined up in a perfectly straight line. Drawing a bejeweled dagger, he cut the throat of every slave in the line. Allura felt herself petrify. Courtier after courtier sacrificed entourages of slaves in honor of their wedding and Lotor's ascension and she was powerless to help any of them. Each slave's death represented a year of marital bliss that particular courtier wished for them. It soon became a competition amongst the Drule nobles – who would sacrifice the most slaves in honor of the king and queen? Currying the king's favor seemed to be almost a blood sport as several fights broke out. At first, the queen hoped that this would halt the sacrifices but the infighting only delayed them.

Her head hung for a moment before she lifted it again. Such an outward display of sadness over these deaths would undoubtedly be considered a weakness in the eyes of the Drule court. Instead she sat with her fingers interlocked and her lips pressed together, staring out into the emptiness. Allura wondered how long she would have to live there before she became numb to such senseless killing. As unsettling as that prospect seemed, in her heart she knew it would be the only way her sanity would endure living in a culture where lives were bought so cheaply. When that metamorphosis occurred, she wondered: would that Allura even recognize herself as she was now? Or would it seem like a memory from a past life?

Eventually Lotor held his hand up and made a shooing motion, halting the "offerings." Allura wasn't sure if he did it for her or if he was merely bored. Realizing she didn't care about what his motivations were, she was just happy he stopped the killings. However, stopping this activity meant other annoying activities would begin. Nobles began to approach the couple, offering congratulations and flattery. The new queen cringed at how they groveled and spouted off over-the-top praises for her and Lotor. She doubted the words contained any sincere feeling. She couldn't decide who she despised more: the insincere flatterers or the courtiers who lacked any subtlety about their ambitions. Several of them requested titles and lands from the newly surrendered Pollux. Lotor gave all of them the hope that they would share in the spoils but promised nothing.

"What of Arus?" a nobleman called Krayta asked. Allura's clenched her fists and her head snapped toward the impudent noble. Her eyes narrowed on the fat, pompous man.

The king turned and smirked at her. He seemed to delight too much in her tension but did eventually relent. "Arus is my wedding gift to the queen. It is her favor you must seek."

Her cold blue eyes bore at the wrinkled noble daring him to make the request of her. The man sputtered incoherent words, bowed, and took his leave. Lotor laughed at the whole exchange. But Krayta wasn't the last to make such a request. Some were more ambitious and offered Lotor lands as an inducement to retract his gift to the queen. He dismissed all the overtures (at least for now) and for that Allura was grateful.

Eventually, Lotor refused the approach of any more groveling courtiers. "We're leaving," he chuckled quietly in her ear. She gasped as his tongue traced her ears before he pulled her to her feet. When they were alone in the hall, Lotor caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "You carried yourself like a true queen," he paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. "I'm so proud of you."

_He _was proud and all she felt was shame. Shame that she would have to spend the rest of her life trying to please him. But more than that, shame that her actions were so deplorable that they brought him pride – how quickly she had fallen from grace.

His hand scaled the length her bodice, he smirked, and then barked to her attendants, "prepare her." Yes, shame was all she felt.


	5. Chapter 5 - Possession

**Author's note: ****I think I may have been remiss in my other chapters but I don't own Voltron or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to Emoz1205, Ebon_drake1, Anonymous Guest, Snyperlady, Carly chameleon, , & bigZ, as always I appreciate your reviews. A special thank you to Ebon_drake1 for giving the chapter a once over.**

** So this is the penultimate chapter (at least as of right now). I can say no one loses their head in this chapter (in fact no one dies in this chapter either). However, this chapter has sexual content. It has situations containing reluctance. If this is upsetting to you, don't read this chapter. ****Having said all that, this is the first time I've ever written anything of this nature, so bear that in mind when reading. I hope it's not too cringe worthy.**

**In case the previous warnings didn't imply it enough, this chapter is most definitely NOT SAFE FOR WORK!**

**Chapter 5 - Possession**

When he entered their bed chambers, freshly showered and out of his blood stained attire, he scanned the room. There she sat, at the foot of the chaise, the warm light from the fire reflecting in the cascade of her unbound curls. But of course, she would be there, it was the piece of furniture furthest from their bed. He chuckled to himself, knowing her choice to be strategic. It didn't matter, though, she would wind up in the bed before the night's end.

Allura rose from the chaise, faced him, and frowned. Her eyes assessed him with all the feeling of an android.

"This day was always coming for you, my love" his voice echoed as he closed the distance between them. In truth, he was somewhat relieved. He expected to find her crying – were she a lesser woman perhaps she would have. He knew there were aspects of Drule culture that humans found … traumatic. He remembered what a trembling, sobbing mess Romelle was reduced to after one slightly sanguineous visit to the arenas (how could he have ever thought Romelle could replace Allura?). But there Allura was, her head held high and her eyes glowed with a defiance that just begged to be subdued. He smiled. And subdue it he would.

The king stepped slowly around her as if she were his prey, instead of his wife. The white silken night gown he had left for her caressed her curves. They screamed for him to run his hands over them. And how could he not? Her tiny waist, rounded bosom, and shapely backside were made to be reveled in by him. No one could deny that when the gods created her they had him in mind.

He came to stand in front of her and her eyes hardened. Something stirred in him, was she going to defy him on this? Pleased with his original assessment that she would not be an easy conquest, he tried to get a rise out of her and reminded her of the one thing he knew she hated hearing, "You were always going to be mine."

"No!" She backed away from him, shaking her head; frowning. For each retreated step, he made an advancing one - unbuttoning his shirt, slowly and deliberately, as he approached her.

"You think not?" he smirked, amused by her denials and naiveté. Amused by how brave and strong she was _trying_ to be in the face of her wedding night. But that was all it really was, an attempt. The paradoxical blend of her fear and defiance was intoxicating. If he was a kinder man, her fear would have stayed his hand, but instead it aroused the predator in him. And she was ever the perfect prey. Diminutive. Beautiful. Defenseless. The fear she so desperately tried to hide left her with her back against the marble wall next to the fire place, with no other retreat, and the king looming over her.

"Perhaps not your heart tonight but I can live without it… for now. But in time even that will be mine," Lotor shrugged out of his shirt, letting it crumbled into a pile on the floor. It revealed his hard, muscular chest, riddled in scars. He planted each of his hands on either side of her head. The maddening thump of the princess' - no his queen's – heart, and her wide, bewildered blue eyes encouraged him on. Her breasts heaved as she endured his piercing gaze. No longer content to merely look, Lotor's hands settled on her ribs.

"Bitch!" he exclaimed when felt a searing pain on the side of his head and her tiny hands shoving him away. He could have stopped her as she ran out the door, with the fireplace poker still in hand (how cute!), but he didn't. He rubbed his temple, laughing, and felt a wet spot; blood. Well, the blood was never a part of the plan but her ability to surprise was one of the things he loved about her. A wicked smile swept his face. This was going to be fun. Drinking a flute of champagne, he delayed his pursuit, wanting to give her time to tire herself out.

When he finally began his chase, her scent was undeniable as he entered the hallway – sweet and flowery mingled with a tinge of fear. His heart raced as he ran through the halls of the emptied wing of the palace. Hoping to hunt her without the use of security feeds, he grumbled as her scent grew weak. But as he approached a service door, a bemused smile crept over his features. The fireplace poker lay abandoned right in front of service stairwell entrance. She really was making this too easy for him. When he entered the stairwell, he could hear the pattering of her bare feet. "Allura, where will you go?" his laugh echoed. "You can't hide from me in my own home!"

The frantic sound of fiddling with door knobs drifted up to him as he ran down the stairs. It was followed by her labored breathing as she descended another level. Until finally he could hear a whining squeak and then a door slamming.

* * *

><p>At first the absence of alarms surprised Allura but she suspected Lotor wouldn't want it known that his wife of only a few hours fled him. <em>What was I thinking? <em> Allura berated herself, certain that the look in her eyes and the sweat on her brow betrayed her freneticism. She wasn't thinking and that was the problem. Her attack on Lotor was a reflex. It was the instinctual action of a cornered prey. But above all else, it was stupid. So very, very stupid. The thought of the consequences released a fresh wave of silent tears.

"You're only postponing the inevitable!" he called out, his voice calm and smooth. If circumstances were different, she might even have found the voice soothing.

Her head snapped behind her toward the sound of footsteps growing louder; closer. Allura scampered to a nearby door and jiggled the door knob. A shriek of frustration erupted from her as she banged on the unrelenting door. She stiffened as the sound of slow, deliberate steps echoed in the vacuous halls. The pounding of her heart almost drowned out the sound of his approach. All she needed was to find some place to sit for just a few minutes, so she could think; so this could be fixed without her people suffering. When he finally caught up with her she didn't want to be the trembling mess she was now. Suddenly she regretted not eating earlier.

"Why run from me? I'm all you have. I'm the only one here who cares about you. Come back to me, my love," his voice laced with, what she was sure was false, concern.

Her reprieve was granted when she finally came upon an unlocked door. Warm evening air hit her as she entered a long, rectangular grassy promenade with trees lining the inner perimeter. Otherwise the palace encapsulated it on all sides. Loud booms reverberated as the light of fireworks, celebrating their nuptials, lit the darkened courtyard. The only other light shone from glass luminaries that lined the white stone walkways. Assessing the layout of the courtyard, she ran towards a door on the far end of the space. Allura didn't even make it halfway across when her breath was knocked out of her as two powerful arms engulfed her, shielding her from the impact as they tumbled to the ground. Her face was on the ground and while she couldn't see who it was, there could be no doubt who tackled her. It was truly shocking that such a large man could move so quickly and quietly.

She tried to move but was pinned in place by Lotor's powerful build. She could feel every muscular bulge of his shirtless torso through the thin nightgown she wore; reminding her just how incredibly vulnerable she was. Stilling, she resigned herself to endure whatever he might mete out.

Lotor smiled as he buried his head in her hair, relishing its sweet scent. A childlike giddiness seeped into him – her golden tresses on his naked body would be the first thing he felt when he woke in the morning. And it would be the first thing he smelled.

Flipping her onto her back, the warmth of his mouth covered hers possessively. These lips would be the first thing he tasted. But since, for the moment, she was unresponsive to him, his mouth trailed from her mouth to the sweet spot behind her ear, then down her neck. _Ah!_ And there it was – a soft shudder and an errant groan slipped out from her. His hands trailed down the side of her body, reveling in the undulations of her willowy body. Fumbling, at first, with the hem of her silken gown, his hands slipped under and progressed intently up her legs. For a moment he began to commit the feel of her flesh to memory. But the most glorious thought flourished: anytime he needed a reminder of how she felt he needed only touch her. He smirked, continuing his advance. The feel of her soft, warm skin put the silk she wore to shame. _So why keep it? _He mused not bothering to hide his wicked smile or laugh. Whimpering, her body arched up and crashed down to the hard ground as he pulled the nightgown over her head with no thought to gentleness.

He drew a ragged breath and his eyes widened as he looked down at her tawny body. A part of him still unable to believe it was Allura underneath him. His stubborn Arussian princess, who thwarted him at every turn, would surely have escaped yet again. A pit formed in his stomach fearing that this was just a part of some drunken stupor and when he recovered, she would be gone and his father still king.

"No, not this time," he murmured. He had waited so long for this moment. As he prepared for this evening, he feared that reality would not live up to the hype he created in his mind. In truth few women could be as beautiful as he imagined her unclothed body to be. But the king could now see his fears were completely unwarranted. She was perfection personified; a devastatingly beautiful goddess. As her most ardent devotee, how could he not thoroughly worship her? His eyes darkened and his breath grew heavy. It took every ounce of self-control to not just ravish her then.

He glanced toward her face briefly. A crimson blush swept her face and her sapphire eyes averted his gaze as she chewed on her lower lip. Her embarrassment pleased him as it confirmed that few, if any, had ever seen her like this. Ignoring for now the tears streaming down her face, his gaze fell upon her pert breasts and immediately his mouth descended like a man starved. How long had he imagined what her flesh would feel like under his command? Reality for once proved more pleasing than fantasy.

At first, her body remained taut. Then his hand cupped her other breast and he teased her little by little until he heard her sigh. Almost imperceptibly her tension ebbed until her body arched to his mouth. Enthralled to his excitement, his mouth moved from her breast to her shoulder. His tongue traced her collarbone. The low moan emanating from her was replaced by a scream as his teeth sank into the fleshy part of her shoulder; lapping up the trickle of blood that seemed to sing his name.

"What the…? Why would you…?" her breathing hitched and her breasts heaved. "Are you angry?"

"I'm going to spend my night buried in you. So no, Allura, I'm not angry," he lifted his mouth, he felt himself lengthening by the mere thought. Panting in deep breaths he struggled to contain his need. _Just a little longer_. His hand slid down from her bosom over her flat belly. His fingers danced over her hips before lingering over her pubis. Her body tensed and trembled as his fingers slid to the warm softness between her legs. His fingers sought the peak that hid in her folds and began caressing it. Her entire body quivered and she let out a shrieking moan. "I anticipated your flight and I allowed you to have your little run. Of course, controlling it nearly at every turn."

_Controlling it at every turn? _His arrogance should be infuriating her but she couldn't summon her righteous anger at the moment. At first her only response was her muffled cries. "Wh…Why?" When they finally came, her words were a breathless squeak. Her voice sounded distance, strained.

"Because it's just stupid to fight the inevitable," his breath strained, listening to her licentious cries, "any trapped animal would have done the same. So I just made a game out of it." Not a small amount of satisfaction welled in him as his finger penetrated her and was engulfed by her warm wetness. Her hips began to mirror the rhythm of his incursions and he could no longer endure his restricting pants. He felt clumsy as he fought, one handed, with his zipper.

"But I wanted you to know that you can run but you will always wind up back here with me," he paused his ministrations and he thought he heard a frustrated groan before he seized her chin. "This can never happen again. Do you understand? You are mine!"

She nodded in acknowledgement but in that moment she would have agreed to anything. He withdrew his hands and grabbed hers, pinning them on either side of her head. Her eyes widened as she felt something hard line up with her opening. His mouth covered hers again before he looked down at her. "Now all will be forgiven because I really did enjoy our little game. But I want to hear you say you're mine."

His mouth descended again, nibbling on her erect nipple. She groaned and she ground against him. A shockwave ripped through her as a confusing pressure built in her tummy.

"Go on, say it," he demanded, lifting his hungry mouth from her chest. "Two little words and there will be no consequences for your little act of defiance."

Glimmers of reality snuck into her dizzying haze of bliss and her sense came crashing back. Her eyes assessed him trying to determine the sincerity of his words. But really what could she do if he was lying?

"I promise. I lost no face because of it. No harm, no foul… this once," his voice hoarse, his face seemed pained. He propped himself over her so their faces aligned, her arms still pinned. "If you are obedient, you will never have reason to fear me. I won't mistreat you or your people."

Her brow furrowed - they were only two words. The validity of them wouldn't be undermined by her refusal to say them. It certainly was never her hope in life to be bound to him but it was now her reality. She was his. It was only her pride that prevented her from saying it aloud. Or was it lingering loyalty to her dead friends? Her breath caught in her throat thinking of her friends and she felt tears spill down her face. Her friends were her past and as much as she hated it, Lotor was her future. Her loyalty had to be to the living. Her people were now at his mercy and if two words would keep them safe, then so be it.

He smiled, seeing that the reality of her situation was sinking in. There was only so much resistance she could put up before it would be viewed as deliberate disobedience. Something her people would pay more dearly for than she would if that was the path she decided to go down. However, her wide eyed gaze, watching him cautiously, promised submission. She seemed so fragile at the moment. It would be so easy to break her right now. His heart pounded as he considered that prospect but ultimately dismissed it. Broken women were easy to obtain; resiliency was a more precious commodity.

"I'm yours," she sobbed, her previous pleasure faded. A very sudden inexplicable panic seized her. And the body that had betrayed her so egregiously by basking in his touch, betrayed her again by trembling in fear at what he was about to do.

"Good girl," he kissed her and as his tongue slipped past her lips, he plunged into her and she screamed into his mouth as he tore through her maiden barrier. The searing pain was more than she ever imagined. Her whole body tensed up and the color drained from her face. Her simpering cries were drowned out by his pleasured groans as he rocked back and forth in her. Allura struggled for breath as it seemed like the only thing in the universe at the moment was the horrible burning and ripping feeling. Her hips tried in vain to retreat from him as he pressed into her. It would be baffle her forever how any woman would agree to do this more than once. _ How any species survive is an enigma!_

"It'll pass. It gets better," as if reading her mind, he groaned into her ear while keeping up his fierce, unrelenting pace. Now more than ever the king was convinced that the Gods thought of him when they created the girl writhing beneath him. Her soft, tight body was the perfect sheath for him. He found himself becoming overwhelmed by the excitement of it all. She was now so definitely his and this knowledge was proving his undoing. But wanting to prove his virility to her, he fought desperately to delay his final release. Yet, his muscles tensed and guttural growl escaped him as a shudder originating in his lower spine over took him.

He wanted to collapse on top of her but instead Lotor lifted himself to stand and zippered his pants. Walking toward where he had thrown her night gown, he scooped it up and walked back toward her. She now had her knees brought to her chest. Kneeling beside her, he ran his hand through her unbound, disheveled hair before returning her nightgown. "I meant what I said. If you are obedient, your life with me will be pleasant. But if not, you will be a very unhappy woman," he stood, towering over her. "Servants will be in a few minutes to attend you. We will continue our evening in our bed."

As she pulled her nightgown on, the servants he spoke of approached as he exited. Two of them helped her to stand. She looked down at the white stone and saw her blood smeared about. The servants looked at her approvingly. The queen rolled her eyes – as if she needed _their _approval! Did they think that she saved herself for _him_? Exhaling a loud huff, she allowed one of them to tidy her hair. Another helped her slip into a robe and slippers. The servants' readiness confirmed what Lotor boasted of earlier, he really had anticipated her response.

As they entered a lift, she wanted to cry; this was not the wedding night of her dreams. There was no gentle seductions or amorous words uttered. But she knew it could have been much worse, he truly could have hurt her if he was so inclined. Instead, her only discomfort was that of what most virgins felt, she supposed. But all and all, this was just an acknowledgement of his power over her.

While her head remained upright, hiding her inner turmoil, what she wanted more than anything was for Nanny to tell her everything would be okay. Her tears threatened to spill as she realized something else he said earlier was also true. He was, in his own twisted way, the only person on this planet who cared about her. Everyone else, including these servants, would only care about her because he told them to do so.

Her breathing grew shallow as she clenched her fists. The sounds around her diminished to distant echoes as the only sound she could hear was the panicked drumming of her heart. Deep down she always believed that right would subdue evil and the love would prevail. Those tenets, that faith, was so truly ingrained in the fiber of her being that without them she felt so blind. She felt without identity; no longer the chaste, hero princess; no longer the valiant freedom fighter. _What was the point of her, then?_ Certainly there was something more to believe in. Because this couldn't be all there was, could it? The queen was sure if she relayed these feelings to Lotor (as laughable as that thought was), he would tell her to put her faith in him. She thought of Coran and what he would have told her in regards to her crumbling faith. Or more precisely what he did tell her time and time again. _"We don't always get what want. But we should be happy if we get what we need. Sometimes, you'll need to learn to satisfy yourself with that."_

As she entered their bedroom, feeling thoroughly conquered, she expected to find Lotor with that annoying gloating smile of his. Instead, his countenance remained neutral as he offered her a flute of champagne and motioned toward a plate of food.

"You need to replenish your energy," he whispered into her ear after she sat.


End file.
